


Pack of Strays

by LittleUggie



Series: Pack of Strays [1]
Category: Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Animal Ears, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Will's dogs are people., discussion about adhd, implied PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-09
Packaged: 2019-01-28 02:29:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12596128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleUggie/pseuds/LittleUggie
Summary: Lupines usually live in packs, but Will had been a loner his entire life. Slowly, he finds himself as the reluctant alpha of a colorful group of misfits. Enter Hannibal, who wants to join him as a mate and co-leader of the pack.





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> From the random thought, 'hey what if Will's dogs were actual people'. Lupines have wolf ears, tails, and a few wolf like tendencies. They aren't werewolves, and this is not an a/b/o fic, don't be fooled by the terminology (or the fact that my last two fics have been a/b/o). 
> 
> Aside from Winston, I took all the dog names from what the dog actors' names are (though I did substitute Jack with Jackson, because I thought two Jacks in the same universe would be confusing). 
> 
> Anyway, this isn't going to be super involved, it was mostly just an experiment. I might revisit it later,

Will never intended to start a pack. He was raised by his human father when his lupine mother decided she’d rather not raise a mongrel pup. Moving around so often growing up, he never joined any of the packs in the areas they passed through. He became quickly aware how the public views lone lupines. Unstable. Dangerous. Prone to outbursts of random violence with no alphas to regulate their animalistic tendencies. 

Still, even after he matured and joined the force in New Orleans, he felt no particular urge to join the (rather large and powerful) southern Louisiana pack. It was something of a point of contention between himself and the few other lupines on the force. He had never made friends particularly easily, but he seemed preternaturally good at making enemies. He doesn’t think it was a coincidence that the night he got stabbed his backup was  _ supposed _ to be one of the lupine officers, a fairly high ranking beta in the pack, too. 

D.C., of course had it’s own large pack, one rumoured to have a particularly vicious internal politics. But scattered throughout the cities and countrysides were dozens of smaller packs. Many of the gangs in the inner city were packs in all ways except officially, something that many of the lawmakers wanted to overlook. 

It’s one of Will’s reasons for moving to Wolf Trap. Despite the name, there were no packs in about a 20 mile radius around the area, which to be honest is mostly farmland and wilderness. He buys the too big house and barn, and the eight acre lot with a stream at the boundary that he could fish in. They aren’t in great condition. He buys it at a dirt cheap price from an older couple. They hadn’t been able to maintain it in their old age, and wanted to move closer to their children. He spends a year fixing it up while attending a graduate program in forensic psychology. He doesn’t have a lot of furniture, so he ends up living mostly in the large front room. He applies to the FBI program, and is rejected do to “presenting signs of antisocial behaviour”. Too bad anti-discrimination laws don’t extend to the packless. 

But he apparently managed to impress someone with his work and credentials, so they offer him  a teaching position. He takes it, because he can’t really afford not to, and refuses to meet the eyes of anyone, human or lupine to show how very dangerous he  _ isn’t _ as a loner. 

Then he meets Harley. He first notices him hanging around a small coffee shop near the academy that Will likes to go to because their brew is really strong and it isn’t popular with the trainees. The first thing anyone notices about Harley is his size. He is a massive man, not fat, but tall and broad. His age is somewhat indeterminate, anywhere from 35 to 55. The haunted lines around his eyes and grey at his temples make one lean toward the older side. 

Will doesn’t think much of him at first, beyond noting a fellow lupine, but as they both become regulars at the shop he begins to pick up on other things about the man. He seems to have a limited number of clothing, which he wears in layers. He also tends to go several days in a row without washing, a fact that is very evident to Will’s sensitive nose. The man is almost always nursing a cup of hot coffee. His suspicions about the man are confirmed, when he overhears the concerned voice of the owner asking if he had a place to stay that night since it was suppose to freeze. 

“You could always go to the pack house. I’m sure they’d take you in.” The owner is a middle aged human woman. She is kind, but a bit naive about lupine culture. 

“Not part of any pack.” The man grunts. “Don’t want any part of that nest of vipers.” His face softens as he looks toward the woman, not meeting her eyes. “Thank you for thinking of me, ma’m, but I’ll be fine.” 

She doesn’t look convinced, but doesn’t push the issue. Will, however, in a shockingly out of character gesture, sits down at the booth across from the man. He watches him tense at the nearness of another lupine, light brown ears flattening back. His lip curls, but he doesn’t bare his teeth. He doesn’t try to meet Will’s eyes, and Will doesn’t try either. 

“Will Graham.” 

“If you’re another one of those damn pack recruiters-” He starts. 

“I don’t have a pack.” Will says. This doesn’t ease the tension. 

“What do you want?” It’s not really hostile, but it’s wary. Will recognizes a defense mechanism when he sees one. 

“It is going to get pretty cold tonight. There’s snow and freezing rain on the forecast this week, too.” 

“So?”

“I haven’t had time to get my firewood cut and hauled to the house. I could use some help, and I have a spare bedroom if you are interested.” He actually had a heater that he planned to use, but the fireplace was technically functional. It’s save on electricity to use it. 

The man eyes him distrustfully. “Why you want some old bum working for you?” 

Will really looks at him then. He can see the tremor in his hands and the way his eyes constantly dart to the escape routes of the building. The constant air of vigilance. 

“Sometimes we loners need to help each other out.” 

The big man gives Will a similar look over, even daring to meet his eyes. Will looks calmly back, not pushing for dominance, but not backing down either. The man drops his eyes first. 

“Harley Kaiser.” He says. 

They end up getting snowed in that week, and it’s lucky they did get the firewood in because the power went out. They huddle together under a pile of blankets in front of the fire like a couple of pups. Will had always heard that touch is a big part of pack life, but he’d never experienced it for himself. Slowly during the week, Harley opens up to him. It wasn’t an unfamiliar story. He’d left the pack he grew up in when he joined the military, and upon being sent back home found himself unable to cope with normal, everyday things. His pack was small and insular enough that they didn’t know how to help him. He left rather than feel like a burden to them and ended up on the streets. 

He’d had several run-ins with the D.C. packs, either with enforcers running him off territory or recruiters. 

“I talked to one of them once,” he said with a snort, “it’s obvious they just wanted me for some extra dumb muscle, but expected me to sell my soul to them in return.” 

It is true that some packs have something of a cult-like mentality to them. Loyalty to the pack first. If you step out of line or disobey the alphas, then you are disgraced. Not all packs are like that, but the more powerful ones seem especially strict, every member being completely devoted to the pack. 

Harley ends up staying and helping to renovate the house and barn. Will also discovers that he’s rather good with motors and gives him free reign to tinker with the various boat parts and farm equipment he has lying around. They get him a cot and he sleeps in the upstairs bedroom. On nights when his nightmares wake one or the other up, they will sit on the porch and watch the sunrise together, grateful for the other’s presence and silence. 

 

Ellie comes next. It’s about four months after Harley moves in. Will finds her broke down on the side of the road on his way back from Quantico. She’s in her late twenties with curly blond hair constantly falling in her eyes, and gray ears and tail that are drooping with despair at her predicament. 

Will pulls up behind the car and gets out. She watches him with eyes that are harder and older than they should be. Will unfortunately recognizes the signs from his time on the force. She tries to stare him down, and while he doesn’t submit, he also doesn’t try to domineer either. He politely offers to have a look at her car, and she agrees. He ignores the way she grips her tire iron. He knows very well how many dangerous people are out there. 

Her serpentine belt is worn out. He asks if there is anywhere he can drive her. She swallows hard and looks at her back seat. His gaze follows hers and sees that it is filled with suitcases and boxes. He is willing to bet those are all her worldly goods. 

So he offers the use of the other upstairs room, just until she finds somewhere else to stay. There’s a bitter look in her eye as she agrees. Will knows there is nothing he can do to dissuade her from her assumptions besides not playing into them. 

He helps her load up her things and drive back to the house. She is skittish around Harley, who picks up on her discomfort and keeps his distance. Though he does move his cot into the unused bedroom and clears out some of the clutter for her. He moves downstairs and sleeps in an old sleeping bag on an air mattress in the living room next to Will. 

“I figured she’d feel more secure without me one room over.” He tells Will. 

She seems confused at the two men’s awkward kindness. It about breaks Will’s heart to see her react with suspicion at basic acts of decency. It comes to ahead at the end of the first week of  her stay when she comes into the kitchen while Will is making burgers for dinner and grabs his crotch. 

He bangs his head on the cabinet and drops his spatula jumping back from her. 

“What the hell?” He thinks he manages a calm enough tone,considering. 

“I just wanted to pay you back for letting me stay here.” She bats her eyelashes and pouts her lips, but Will can read her disgust in the line of her shoulders, and the tilt of her wolf ears. 

“I don’t expect any kind of payment from you, Ellie.” He says. “Especially that kind.” 

Her brow furrows. “Are you gay? I didn’t think you and Harley were a thing.” 

“We’re not. And I wouldn’t accept sex as an exchange from anyone.”

“So what? You’re just gonna let me live here for free?” She asks, scorn clear on her face. “Everyone wants something.” 

God, and he thought he was cynical. “If you really feel like you somehow need to earn your way here, you can help Harley with the renovations. Or you could clean or cook.” He shrugs. “Hell, if you wanted, you could get a job in town. You can stay here until you save enough to get a place of your own.” 

He looks her in the eye, to impart his sincerity. Her blue eyes widen behind too much mascara. He reads her pain and anger. The attitude she wears like armor to hide her scarred heart. 

“We know what it’s like to be alone, Ellie. That’s why we are helping you.” He breaks the contact, and flips the burgers before they scorch. She stands still as a statue for a moment then leaves. 

When Will gets home the following Monday, the floor has been swept and mopped, the bathroom scrubbed, and the fridge cleaned out. Ellie asks if she can use his computer to look for jobs. He agrees. When she gets hired at the nearish Wal-Mart, he pays to get her car fixed so she can drive to work. With her first paycheck, she buys a futon so Harley can have his cot back. 

Life with Ellie is different. She isn’t as quiet as the two men, prone to commentary, and apparently not used to living in the sticks. She doesn’t talk about her past, and neither man asks. The first month she lives there, she wanders around the house and yard, seeming bored. When Will’s home, she often asks to use his computer. If he doesn’t have any work to do on it, he agrees. After she starts working, she gets a used tablet, and in the evenings will curl up in one of the chairs in the living room to watch movies on it while the men read, tinker, or (in Will’s case) tie flies. But it’s nice in it’s own way. She has a wicked sense of humor once she feels comfortable enough to show it, and it is nice to see her soften,her hard won defenses come down. 

She’s actually the one who brings home the next stray. 

 

Jackson is maybe a year or two younger than Ellie. He hides in an oversized pullover when she brings him to the house, hood up with slits cut for his bicolored ears to poke out, one tan and one white. His tail seems permanently tucked between his legs, and he can barely bring his eyes off of the floor. He doesn’t say a word while he is there. Ellie says he does stock at the store. They often have break together.

Will wonders if she has a crush when she first says she’s bringing a guest to dinner, but watching her watch him over chicken stir fry, he thinks it’s more she feels a sense of kinship with the quiet boy. Some bond forged from past lives overcome. She brings him to dinner several times over a period of several months, and occasionally spends time with him outside the house. He never speaks directly to Will, but will whisper to Ellie sometimes. Harley tells him that the boy had told him his name and had asked a few questions about the house, but again rarely said anything. Will didn’t mind, he was glad Ellie had found a friend (and god doesn’t that sound like his father’s talking), and far be it from him to push someone to interact when they don’t want to. 

It took six months of intermittent dinners for Jackson to finally speak to him, and it is with the prodding and encouragement of Ellie at his back that he does so. 

“Mr. Graham?” It’s a soft voice, a timid alto. 

Will looks up from the papers he is grading. “Please, call me Will. Can I help you with something?”  He keeps his surprise from being addressed off of his face, ears pricked attentively forward, and eyes on the top of Jackson’s lowered head. 

He shuffles from foot to foot. Mouth twisting as he tried to make the words come out. 

“My-my lease is up at the end of the month, and I hoped-if it’s okay-that I could, um-” He turns toward Ellie. 

“Could he move in here? I can share my room.” Ellie says. 

“If he can put up with all of us,” Will says, tone light. “Jackson,” he says more seriously, but still kind. “I know it might be hard, but could you look at me? Just for a second?” 

It takes a minute. Will can smell the anxiety pouring off the young lupine, but he does manage to drag his eyes to Will’s. Whose tail thumps once where it’s draped over the arm of the chair in thanks. 

“I don’t know what your life was like before, or what you have been through, Jackson. But you are welcome here, no matter what or who you call yourself.” 

There is a sharp intake of breath, at the eyes dropped, Will is afraid for a moment that he is going to put his entire body on the ground and bare his throat. He isn’t sure what he’d do about that. 

“You-you know?” Jackson’s voice sounds like it may crack. 

Will doesn’t pretend to misunderstand. “I’m very good at reading people. I don’t know if Harley knows or not. It is, of course, your decision whether you want to tell him. But for what it’s worth, I don’t think he’ll have a problem with it.” 

Jackson looks too overwhelmed to speak, and Ellie leads him gently away, arm around his shoulder. 

He doesn’t see much more of Jackson after he moves in than he did before for the first few weeks. It was after he woke up from one of his vivid nightmares about being stabbed and has gone out to the porch to get some fresh air that the boy quietly joins him. 

“My pack didn’t understand.” He says into the grey predawn light, breath coming out as smoke. “They disowned me when I was sixteen. I went into the system. It wasn’t-. It was better in some ways. Worse in others.” 

Will sits on the step. The sweat drenching his shirt is making him cold, but he doesn’t pay it any mind. 

“I never had a pack.” he says when it becomes obvious Jackson isn’t going to say anymore. He looks across the yard toward the treeline, as if addressing the world. “We were always moving. I followed my father from the boat yards in Biloxi and Greenville to lake boats on Erie. Always the new boy at school. Always the stranger.” He too falls silent then. 

There is movement beside him, and Jackson sits down on the step next to him. There arms just brushing. They stay like that until the sky grows pink and they hear Harley moving around in the kitchen. 

Jackson is still quiet after that, but it is a contented silence. He moves around the house more easily. When spring rolls around, he plants a garden and takes over most of the cooking, gracing the table with fresh vegetables. Will finds he quite enjoys coming home to dinner on the table and a mix of interesting companions to share it with. 

 

Max and Buster come as a set. It’s really sheer stupidity on his part that he finds him. He’s just leaving a hardware store in Fairfax (because it is apparently the only nearby place that sells the type of screw the stupid ancient light fixtures in the house use) when he picks up the sound of a confrontation. It’s probably left over instinct from being a cop (or some deep buried death wish) but he goes toward the noise anyway, bag held tight in his hand like it would be any help as a weapon. 

The two boys backed up against the wall couldn’t be much more than 18. One was a tiny thing, probably 90 pounds soaking wet and 5’3’’ at the tips of his ears. He vibrates with anger, brown ears twitching even while laid back. The other is thin, making his average hight look taller. He is is stock still, black ears almost disappearing into his hair. He has one arm out in front of the small boy, partially to protective, and partially restraining. 

The three lupines surrounding them are bigger and better fed, but look about the same age. They also look eager for a fight. 

“We told you little shits to stay offa our territory, but you didn’t listen. Seems like you need another lesson about what happens when you cross The Fax Pack.” 

“You get called a stupid name?’ The little one snarks back. “Cause Fax Pack has to be the dumbest fucking thing-” His words are cut off by the fist to his jaw. 

And that’s when Will steps in. 

“Hey! What’s going on here?” Seems like the cop voice never leaves you. In fact, maturity and a couple of years lecturing seem to have made it even deeper and more intimidating. All five lupines seem to immediately recognize the tone, too. The three threatening ones back up a step. 

“Why don’t you mind your own fucking buisness?” The ringleader’s lip curls, but his tail is twitching in nervousness at the interference of an older lupine. 

Will gets closer to the group, and plants his feet, shoulders back. His eyes roam over the other two thugs who can’t meet his eyes. The ringleader tries to stare him down, but Will’s not about to be intimidated by a teenage punk. The boy drops his eyes. 

“Let’s get outta here,” he growls, and with a glare at the two boys they were bullying, they slink off, tails literally between their legs. 

“ _ Estás loca mierda. ¡Eso fue asombroso! ¿De dónde eres, jefe? _ ” The smaller lupine looks like he’s about to vibrate off into space, staring at Will in wide eyed wonderment. 

“Buster,” taller one looks a little more leery of Will. His voice is unexpectedly deeper than his frame indicates. “They’ll find us again.” 

“Pack dispute?” Will asks. 

“There was a split.” Buster says. “Those dumb fucks went to the other side. How’d you stare down Devon? He’s in the running for alpha!” 

Will shrugs. Just because he doesn’t have a pack, doesn’t mean he’s willing to submit to any lupine who tries to eyeball him. 

“You two have a safe place to stay?” He asks. 

“Max, we can’t go back to Aaron’s.” Buster says to his friend. “That fucker sold us out.” 

“We’ll find somewhere.” But Max looks worried. 

Will has to suppress a sigh. Looks like he’ll be picking up some more air mattresses. 

Bringing Max and Buster into the fold was a much bigger transition than any of the others so far. For starters, there wasn’t really much room for them. Harley gives up his bedroom again, and he and Will begin plans to renovate the barn into something of a guest house. 

“Who knows how many more strays we’ll end up with.” Harley jokes. 

Max is fairly easy to get along with, once he gets over his cautiousness of being in a new place with strangers. He jumps into help Harley out with the renovations and learning about mechanics. He gets some odd jobs working on nearby farms. 

Buster, on the other hand… The little lupine is always getting into some scrap or another. Will thinks Ellie is going to punch him for his incessant flirting. He talks almost non stop in a mixture of English and Spanish. He bombards Jackson with questions, making the shy boy even more withdrawn. He can’t seem to sit still, either, always moving around, unable to focus on anything for more than a few minutes. Max is the only one who can manage to get him to calm down, redirecting his attention with physical nudges and pointed reminders.

Will asks him about it, once. Max tells him that they became friends when they were put in the same group home together, and they watched each other’s backs. They’d dropped out of high school and joined a sketchy pack. They made money mostly by selling weed. They had been staying at a pack member’s house when the pack split. The side they ended up on was turning out to be the losing ones, and all the remaining members were being reabsorbed or run off. 

Will asks Buster if he was ever tested for adhd. He was, but was never medicated. 

“My Moms never believed that shit,” he tells Will. “And the people who ran the group home didn’t care.” 

So Will makes an appointment for him with one of the few work colleagues he is friendly with, Dr. Alana Bloom. She seemed surprised when Will asked if she would be willing to take on a friend of his as a patient, or at least refer him to someone. 

She is even more surprised when she meets Buster. 

The boy bounds into her office, with Will following at a more reasonable pace behind him. The young lupine stops and stares wide eyed when he sees her. 

“ _ Jefe _ , you didn’t tell me she was hot!” Despite Will’s best efforts, Buster still refers to him as boss or other honorifics usually reserved for alphas. 

“Buster, I’m pretty sure Ellie talked to you about the proper way to talk to women.” 

“But, Will,” Alana’s eyes are sparkling with mischief, making Will worry he had just made a huge mistake. “Why didn’t you tell him I’m hot?” 

Will flushes, while Buster cackles. He sits out in the waiting room while they have their session, and then takes him to pick up an Adderall prescription. 

The effects aren’t immediately noticeable, but after a month the boy is able to sit down and spend an hour signing up for a GED prep course with only minimal twitching. Max had already signed up with Harley’s urging. 

The younger four pack members pool together and purchase a tv and streaming service. While Will has never been a big television watcher, he enjoys the commentary on the shows and movies they watch together in the evening. Even Jackson participates, allowing himself to be drawn from the floor to the middle of the sofa, squeezed between Ellie and Max. Harley gets his own chair due to his size, but the rest pile all over each other like pups. 

 

Zoe finds them. Really. She shows up one day, dressed in hiking gear and carrying a framepack. She is maybe in her early sixties with long grey hair. Her ears and tail are fluffy and white, and she has a rather pronounces underbite. Will walks out onto the front porch in his underwear with a cup of coffee and she is sitting there on the step. 

He blinks at her. “Umm. Hello?” 

“Hello.” She answers back cheerfully. 

There is a long silence. 

“Can I help you?” 

She looks up and sniffs. “That coffee smells good, if you’re willing to share a cup.” 

“Uh, sure. You wanna come in?” 

Zoe has apparently been everywhere and done everything. She has a thousand stories, only a quarter of which Will suspects are fabricated. Her clothing ranges from flannel and farm wear to sari skirts and long flowing dresses. Her cooking is highly experimental, but she is very good at gardening and helps Jackson expand his plot. She speaks fluent Spanish with Buster, and does makeovers with Ellie (and Max, who says he likes the pedicures). 

When she finds out Harley is a veteran, she gets very quiet, then goes and carefully hugs him. Softly she thanks him for his service. Will isn’t entirely sure what passes between them, but he knows they talked outside almost all night one night. Harley seemed...unburdened afterward, in a way Will had never seen him before. 

One weekend in July, Will pulls out his fishing gear, and low and behold she presents her own collapsible pole and pair of waders and heads out with him. Will hasn’t fished with anyone since his father passed away, and she is pleasant company. She understands the value of quiet, and absorbs herself in nature and the cast and draw of the line. Together they manage to pull in enough fish to feed everybody. 

In short, everyone absolutely adores her. 

She has her moments, though. Will can see it in her eyes, she looks as if the world is closing in on her. She will disappear without a word for hours or days. Sometimes she tells them where she went, sometimes she doesn’t. Will asks everyone (Buster) to not bother her about it. On the one year anniversary of her first appearance, she bakes a pomegranate and raspberry cake that is surprisingly edible, and reveals that this is the longest she has stayed in one place for nearly 25 years. 

She and Will are the last left in the living room that evening after everyone else has gone to their rooms. They share a glass of honey bourbon together and Will asks. 

“Why here?” 

She looks thoughtful as she sips her drink. “There are no boundaries here. I don’t feel caged in like I have everywhere else. I know you’ll let me go so that means I’m free to come back.” She looks at him, meeting his eyes with a cheerful smile, and a roguish head tilt. “You’re the strangest alpha I’ve ever met, Will Graham.” 

He blinks, taken aback, “I’m not an alpha.”

“And that’s why.” She laughs, before downing her drink, giving him a pat on the knee, and heading out to her room in the converted loft of the barn. 

 

So while he never intended it to happen, somehow weird, loner Will Graham ends up with a pack. And it’s easier than he ever expected. The other pack members take his foibles in stride just as he takes their’s. When he comes home tired and needing time to himself, they give it to him. He never had to explain about empathy disorders or nightmares. They just accepted it. He foregoes his glasses when he’s at home, because there is no reason for him to avoid eye contact among the pack. He doesn’t have to keep the world at a distance when he is home. 

He is pretty eager to get back to Wolf Trap after his journey to Minnesota and finding Elise Nichols. That is until he sees a small figure walking stumbling along the side of the road in the dark. He pulls the car to a stop, and gets out. Whoever it is scrambles back and hides in the brush. 

“Hello? Do you need any help? I’m not going to hurt you.” There is some movement, but no one comes out. “Look, I’m just going to wait for a little while in my car. If you want, I can drive you somewhere or take you to get something to eat.” There is more movement at the mention of food. Two matted brown ears and a pair of big brown eyes appear from behind a bush. 

Will dips his head in greeting. “Hi. I’m Will. I promise I just want to help you. I work for the FBI, see?” Telegraphing his movements, he gets his temporary badge out of his wallet, and holds it up. The eyes look at it, and slowly the figure creeps forward. 

Will wants to gasp when he sees him, but refrains. He’s a child, probably no older than twelve. He’s shivering in a filthy t-shirt and jeans. The tennis shoes he’s wearing are more holes than shoe and look too small anyway. 

“Hello.” He says again when the boy has reached the edge of the asphalt. “What’s your name?” The boy doesn’t answer, just stares at him with those huge, soulful eyes, too big in his thin face. 

“What would you like to eat?” He tries. Again the boy doesn’t say anything, but he does shuffle a step closer. 

“Okay, well, I’m going to get in my car. I believe there is a gas station up the road a little ways. I can buy you something there, if you’ll come with me.” Keeping his eye on the boy, he gets back in the car. After a few minutes, the passenger door opens, and the boy crawls in. He presses against the door and doesn’t put on the seat belt. 

Will doesn’t say anything as they drive to the gas station. He buys several hot dogs and some bags of chips as well as some Gatoraid and watches the boy devour it sitting in the open hatchback of his car. 

“Do you have any place to stay?” Will asks. The boy ignores him, concentrating on the food. 

“Alright, well, if you are comfortable with it, you can spend the night at my house. You’ll be safe there. You can eat and have a bath. We can get you some clean clothes.” 

The boy flicks his ear but doesn’t give any other indication he’s heard, but when he finishes eating, he curls up in the back of the car and appears to go to sleep. Will waits a moment, then shuts the back and drives very carefully back to his house. 

The porch light is on when he gets home, but the rest of the house (and the barn) is dark. He opens the back, and debates on whether or not to wake the boy. Deciding he wouldn’t want to wake up in a strange house not knowing how he got there, he gently shakes his shoulder. Sitting bolt upright, the boy scrambles back away from Will, who puts his hands up and steps back to give him more space. 

“We’re at the house,” he says in explanation. The boy peers suspiciously out of the car before hopping out. Will grabs his carry on and briefcase, and shuts the back, leading the way up to the house. 

He was going to direct the boy to the bathroom so he can clean up, but when he turns around from setting his things down, the boy has laid down on the couch and burrowed under a throw. Deciding to leave him be for now, Will shucks off his shoes, makes use of the facilities, puts on a t-shirt and pajama bottoms, and goes to sleep. 

Which turns out to be a horrible idea because he is plagued with nightmares of the dead girl. He sits up, breathing hard and soaked in sweat. He feels eyes on him and turns, startling at the sight of the boy’s eyes looking at him from where he is bundled up on the couch. 

“Sorry,” he breathes to him. “Go back to sleep.” He gets up, grabs some dry clothes and goes to the bathroom to change, leaving the wet things in the hamper. He snags a beach towel, not feeling up to changing the sheets, and puts it down before getting back in the bed. He turns on his side, still seeing the gleam of the silent boy watching him. 

“It was a nightmare.” He tells him. “I get them sometimes.” The boy blinks at him, then pulls the blanket over his head, presumably to go back to sleep. Will follows suit. 

Harley is almost always the first one up, liking to take a run in the early morning. Though he’s pretty quiet, Will still wakes whenever he leaves the house. He wasn’t sleeping particularly well this morning, so he sits up when the big man comes downstairs not feeling any less exhausted than yesterday. The bundle on the couch sits up, brown eyes looking blearily out, one ear turned inside out and hair an even bigger rat’s nest. The eyes track Harley’s movement. In his credit, the man just nods at the boy, then Will, and heads out the door. 

The two remaining lupines look at each other, assessing. Will, of course, breaks the silence.

“Breakfast?”

The boy stands, still wrapped up and follows Will to the kitchen. Will gives him directions to the bathroom if he needs it while getting out the stuff to make pancakes. He’s started buying the mix in bulk because it’s something everyone will eat and it’s easy to make. Down the hall, the toilet flushes and he hears the shower start. Will grabs a clean t-shirt and drawstring pants from his draw and leave them folded in front of the bathroom door. 

Will really doesn’t need the complication of a mute, under fed lupine child staying in his house, especially with Jack breathing down his neck with this case. But it’s not like he can toss the boy back out on the street. He pours the batter on the hot pan and watches the bubbles slowly pop. He’ll have to contact children’s services. As unimpressed as he is with the agency, he can’t legally keep the child here. They’ll either track down where he came from or stick him in a foster home. Possibly both depending on the situation. 

A worried frown graces his brow as he flips the pancakes. The child’s unwillingness or inability to speak will not be to his benefit. Special cases are even more difficult to place, as he learned from Jackson and Buster. 

He’s sets the platter of steaming pancakes on the table and is getting started on frying some bacon when the boy comes back, hair dripping. Will has to smile how he hiked the pants all the way up to his armpits. They still pooled around his feet. He hands him a plate and fork, and sets him up with the syrup bottle and a glass of milk. 

The boy makes his way through a truly astounding amount of pancakes, and Will has seen how much Max and Buster can put away, so this is saying something. He has a vague worry that the boy may make himself sick, and he gives him a quiet warning that he just returns with a scornful glance and another mouthful. No one questions the fact that there is a silent child sitting at the table which goes to show...something. Will doesn’t really want to speculate what. 

Buster talks at the boy, who blinks back at him but doesn’t seem alarmed. That’s more than most people react when confronted with Buster before his meds kick in. Watching the two together, Will starts forming the beginnings of what could be a terrible idea. He’ll have to talk to Alana, she’ll have a better idea of the logistics he’ll need to know. 

Looks like he’s going to have an official pack after all. 

 

But first, he has to deal with this bullshit. Dr. Hannibal Lecter may be the most put together lupine he has ever me. Strike that, the most put together person. His ears and tail are an interesting variation, dark at the base and fading to silver at the tips. Will can’t stop his own ears from flattening back in annoyance at the man’s psychiatric prying in Jack’s office, and just barely stops himself from snarling at the question about eye contact. 

“With humans, it’s distracting. You see too much. You don’t see enough. And it’s hard to focus when you’re thinking those whites are really white or they must have hepatitis, or is that a burst vein? But with lupines…” He continues to avoid Dr. Lecter’s intent gaze. “Well, I see no reason to staredown everyone I meet.” 

“How polite of you.” Does he detect a note of humour in the doctor’s tone? “I imagine what you see and learn touches everything else in your mind. Your values and decency are present yet shocked at your associations, appalled at your dreams. No forts in the bone arena of your skull for things you love.” 

“Whose profile are you working on?” Will scowls outright. There probably is some subtonal growling in his question. “The things I love, as you put it, are plenty well protected.” Why, oh why did he say that? To a fucking psychiatrist? 

“I’m sorry, Will. Observing is what we do. I can’t shut mine off any more than you can shut yours off. I did not mean to insult you.” 

“I’m not in need of psychoanalysis, doctor.” His jaw clenches with the effort to keep from bearing his teeth. “Excuse, me I have a class.” He stalks out the door. He does not need this shit right now. 

His phone rings on the way to his lecture hall. He checks, it’s Max. “Hello?” 

“Hey Will, the social worker just left.” 

“Did he go with her?” 

“Yeah, put up a little bit of a fuss, but she explained everything pretty well. She went ahead and did a walk through of the houses. She said we’ll have to do interviews and some training, but if we get the official pack paperwork in order, there shouldn’t be much trouble.” 

“Alana’s helping with that, she’s got a friend in the Lupine Affairs Department. The social worker manage to get a name out of him?” Everyone had taken turns guessing the boy’s name, but he seemed to take smug delight in turning down every suggestion. 

“Yeah, get this. It’s Winston.” Max laughs, “She had him write it down.”

“Wow. I would never have guessed that.It sounds like a British butler’s name.” 

“Right? Talk to you later, Boss.” 

“Not you, too, Max.” Will huffs. 

“Hey, it’s gonna be true enough soon, Alpha Will.” With that parting shot, the young man hangs up. 

Even as a lowly teacher, his FBI credentials are enough to get the paperwork for the formation of a small pack to get pushed through fairly quickly. Of course by fairly quickly, this means about a month rather than three to five months. Winston is placed in a local group home where he is the only lupine. Members of the pack go and visit him a couple of times a week. Will goes when he can, but this damn case is eating into his time. He sits at a picnic table outside with the boy outside the group home facility. It’s not really a house, but one can’t really call it a bedsit for kids. One of the supervisors sits, trying to look unobtrusive a little way away. 

Will and Winston ignore her easily enough and concentrate on a high stakes game of checkers. They had been playing cards on previous visits, but the cards were confiscated when another pair of boys were caught playing strip poker. Will wonders if the chaperones are aware that any game can be turned into a strip version if you are creative and bored enough. 

It’s a rather quiet affair since Winston still isn’t talking (though a cursory doctor’s examination found no physical reason he shouldn’t be able to) and Will sees no reason to fill the air with unnecessary chatter. 

The boy became surprisingly attached to Will and the rest of the pack in the short time he stayed with them. Will can’t help but worry at what has made him so starved for affection. The older lupine does notice that the boy regards all humans he meets with a cold distance. Which is even more worrying. 

When he leaves that afternoon, Winston gives Will a tight hug around his middle that makes him smile. Whatever happened to the boy in the past, Will is going to make sure he has a happy and secure future. 

Then he gets called back to Minnesota and everything goes to shit.

 

Lupines often get stereotyped as more territorial and protective than humans and therefore more violent. While there is a grain of truth in that, Will has never met a single lupine that comes close to the possessive brutality fully human Garret Jacob Hobbs shows toward his wife and daughter. He shoots without thought, teeth bared, ears folded back, hair on end. Then he keeps shooting, filled with fury at this man who’d taken and eaten so many young women. 

The monster hiding as a man falls, and Will rushes to the girl, only to be brushed aside by Dr. Lecter, calmly applying pressure. Their eyes meet and hold for a long moment, and there is a long suspended moment of connection, where deep in the most primitive part of Will, something sits up and pays attention. 

_ Dangerous _ , it whispers,  _ a strong match _ . 

Even when the police and paramedics arrive-had he called them?- he’s still stuck in that spellbound state. Maybe part of it is shock, but he can’t find it in him to feel too bad about Hobbs. No, the dissociation causing the muted flow of the world around him is caused by the overwhelming sense of familiarity he felt when he met the other lupine’s eyes, the feeling of  _ pack _ . It’s the same sense he felt when he first met all his pack members, but magnified by ten.

Dr. Lecter looks over at him before hopping up into the ambulance with Hobb’s daughter. Had he felt the same connection? Maybe, maybe not, but he felt deep in his bones, that whatever  _ this _ is, it is just beginning. 

The other lupine had been right. Will does find him interesting after all. 


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will gets to know Hannibal.

Will can’t exactly refuse the evaluation, especially when he’s still in the process of getting custody of Winston. That doesn’t mean he has to be happy about it. Though the opportunity to see Dr. Lecter again is fortunate. He needs to learn more about the strange attraction he has for the lupine.

But to do that he’ll have to put up with being psychoanalyzed. Great. 

Though once he gets to the doctor’s frankly ostentatious office, he finds that Lecter has already rubber stamped him. Before they’ve done much more than exchange greetings. Will looks down at him. He felt uneasy in what is so obviously another’s territory that he sought high ground. 

“Jack Crawford may lay his weary head to rest knowing he didn't break you and our conversation can proceed unobstructed by paperwork.”

“Our conversation? What do you think we have to talk about if you’ve already decided I’m sane?” He sits above the ladder, feet dangling down. Lecter prowls over to gaze up at him. 

“I suspect we can find quite a bit to discuss, Will. For example, why you are listed as not belonging to any pack, and yet I can smell quite at least four different lupines on you.”

Will raises his eyebrows. “Is that relevant to my therapy?”

“Were this officially therapy, it would be helpful to know what support system you depend on. As it is, I'm not sure therapy will work on you. Stealing into other minds has taught you how to fortify your own.” 

“That’s what I said.”

“What you need is a way out of dark places when Jack sends you there.” 

“And you don’t think I have one of those already?” 

“That is what I am attempting to find out.” The psychiatrist’s mouth turns up at the corners.

Will studies him, carefully avoiding his eyes. “Are you part of a pack?” 

If the question offends, he doesn’t show it. “No.” He doesn’t explain further. 

Will nods. “It was a slow development. We only filed the paperwork to become official a little while ago.” 

“The presence or lack thereof of legal documents is not what makes a pack.” Hannibal says. “From what I know of you, I would guess that you pull others to you organically, they are drawn by your effortless leadership and compassionate nature.” 

“Why do you assume I’m the alpha?” 

“Are you not?” Is the arched answer. 

“I am.” 

“The mirrors in your mind can reflect the best of yourself and not the worst of someone else.” Hannibal smiles at him again, and Will almost feels the urge to smile back. “I think if Jack knew you already have an anchor, he’d be less likely to push you into therapy.” 

“If I’m so stable, what do we need to have conversations for, doctor?” Will descends the ladder and stands in front of the other lupine now, eyes on his neat ears, which are perked forward at attention. 

The humour in Lecter’s accented voice is evident, “Perhaps it is my own curiosity that prompts me to extend the invitation.”

“You have a professional interest in me?” He wouldn’t be the first psychiatrist to try and pry into Will’s brain. 

“I cannot deny that, but I am rapidly finding I have a stronger personal on.” 

Will meets his eyes then, and it’s just like the first time, an electric surge of connection. Nervously, he licks his lips and watches the doctor’s eyes flick down to take in the gesture. 

_ Oh _ , he thinks,  _ so that’s how it is _ . 

“If that’s the case, “ Will can hardly believe the words coming out of his mouth. “Then maybe your office isn’t the best place for us to have...conversations.” 

Holy shit is he flirting with the psychiatrist that had watched him shoot a man ten times not that long ago? Yes. Yes, he is. 

The other lupine’s eyes crinkle with the widening of his smile, and such a broad showing of teeth should not cause a flare of interest in Will’s belly, but there it is. Slightly crooked, with the sharp, lengthened canines indicative of his wolfish nature, the light fairly gleamed off of them. 

“Could I tempt you into joining me for dinner, at my home?” 

Will’s ears twitch at the baritone purr of his voice. Tempting, indeed. He needs to get a handle on himself. 

“Not tonight, but, I’d like that.” 

“I shall contact you at a later date, then.” He steps back, breaking the tension between them and picking up the evaluation form off the desk. He offers it to Will, face composed back into his polite mask. “Until we next meet.” 

Will takes the form. “Until, then, Dr. Lecter.” 

 

Will doesn’t really date. Sure, when he was in college he had hooked up a few times, and he had one or two fairly serious relationships while he was still a cop. But really, the older he got, the less he felt like putting forth the effort. He really got all the affection he needed from the pack. He didn’t feel any lack in his life from engaging in only platonic relationships (that one time Ellie had grabbed his junk notwithstanding). Plus he slept on a single mattress in the living room of an increasingly populated house, so even if he was so inclined to date, it wasn’t like he could bring them home for anything explicit. 

Still, though, he thought the pack’s reaction to him going to a romantic dinner is a little extreme. 

“ _ Ya es hora de que tengas algo. ¡Vete, jefe! _ ”

“So...you are gay then? I wondered if you were like a monk or something. Who is this guy again? Is he hot?” 

“Aww, shit, Harley, we’re gonna have to renovate the attic after all. Will’s not gonna want to bring his boyfriend home if they don’t have any privacy.” 

“So hell finally froze over? This has to be a sign of something. Will Graham on a date. Nope, still sounds wrong.” 

“Make sure you massage the perineum, it stimulates the prostate.” 

Only Jackson didn’t provide any unnecessary commentary, only giving him a small smile and quiet congratulations. Will decides he likes Jackson best. 

And maybe Winston, who would finally get to come live with them at the end of the month, once the pack legality came into effect. Harley had once again agreed to give up his room, and was moving out into the barn. 

“Alright, jeez. It’s a date, not a damn wedding. You all are being ridiculous. And Zoe- no… just no.” Will rubs his hands over his face. The pack is gathered in the living room, Ellie, Max, and Buster piled up on the couch. Harley in his usual chair. Zoe and Jackson doing something with yarn at the desk. 

“Your lover will thank you for it.” 

“I don’t need sex tips, thank you.”

“What are you going to wear?” Ellie asks. 

“I hadn’t thought about it yet.”

Ellie hops up and starts rifling through his drawer. He leaves her to it, because he can’t work up the energy to argue. Also, she probably would put together a better outfit than he could come up with on his own. 

“So this guy,” Harley says to him when Will flops down in his own chair. “He a match for you?” 

Will looks at him, “What do you mean?” 

Harley give him a look that means he thinks Will’s being obtuse. “Alpha pair runs a pack.” 

Heat rises to his cheeks. “It’s a little early for that.” He protests. “It’s just dinner.” 

“Didn’t take long for any of us to join.” 

“I don’t even know if he’d be interested in-.joining a pack, especially as, you know. That’s a big step. I don’t think he’s like us.” 

“I thought you said he was a lone lupine.” 

“He is, but I don’t think he’s…” 

“A stray?”

“For lack of a better term.” 

Harley shrugs. “Just because he doesn’t look it, doesn’t mean he’s not. Lupines aren’t meant to be alone.” 

Will is still thinking about that when he pulls up to Dr. Lecter’s house, which promises to be even more extravagant on the inside than the psychiatrist’s office. Is it possible that the doctor is lonely? He has to admit he doesn’t know the man well enough to judge. He is particularly hard to read, his placid mask likely perfected after years of practicing therapy. 

Ellie has dressed him in black slacks, a dark blue button down, and a grey tie. Then she had run some sort of goop through his hair which made his curls look artfully tousled rather than like he got in a fight with a weed wacker. She also insists he leaves his glasses at home. 

“Don’t want to obstruct the view,” she says with a wink. 

 

He rings the doorbell, and a moment later is being ushered in. Hannibal himself is in one of his plaid suits with contrasting paisley tie. 

“I was just plating dinner, it will only be a moment.” He shows Will to the dining room, which is set with two places . Hannibal at the head, and Will on his right. It is, in fact, candle lit, in addition to the sparkling light thrown by the chandelier. Hannibal pulls the his chair out for him, and Will sits, eyes following the other lupine as he moves smoothly out of the room. 

Will looks around the room, his gaze drawn (as is no doubt the intention) by the large framed print on the wall behind the head of the table. He recognizes it as Yeats’  _ The Birth of the Lupine _ . Inspired by the tale of Romulus and Remus, who were birthed by a female wolf and said to have been the first Lupines. Long since proved a myth by modern science, since they have found evidence of Lupines alongside the Cro-Magnons. Still, it is a beautiful piece of artwork, the mother wolf curled around the plump, naked pups, the soft light streaming through the trees sheltering them. 

Hannibal carries two steaming bowls in. “For our first course, Sunchoke soup, made with Jerusalem artichokes, garnished with truffle oil. I also added a bit of roasted pepper, for color and to increase the boldness of the flavor. Our entree will be duck breast with a pomegranate-citrus glaze, and for dessert a dulce de leche mousse.” 

“Wow.” Will’s eyes are wide, mouth already watering with the scents rising from the steaming bowl. “And I thought your protein scramble was good.” 

“The last ingredient in a meal is the company with which you share it.” He pours Will a glass of white wine. “ Gewürztraminer. Not my usual preference, but it should pair well with the citrus in the glaze.” 

“I’ll have to take your word for it. I doubt my palate is anywhere close to your standards.” 

“I look forward to teaching you.” The words hold the promise of many more meetings. 

Will covers a sudden attack of bashfulness by taking a spoonful of soup. “This is amazing.” It’s savory and smooth with just a hint of a bite from the pepper. 

“I am glad you enjoy it.” 

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a Jerusalem artichoke. Jackson grows some regular ones, we just usually roast them.” 

“Jackson is one of your pack members?” 

“Yes.” And just like that, Will finds himself telling Hannibal about his motley crew. Every open ended question leading into more stories. Every time Will would become overcome with shyness, Hannibal would coax him back into his previous animation, a small smile playing about his lips. 

By the time they got to dessert, Will is beginning to run out of steam. “Sorry for talking so much. I don’t usually do that.” 

“There is no need for apologies. You are devoted to your pack, and it sounds as if they are just as fond of you.” 

“Would you like to meet them?” It’s a sudden, impulsive offer, that he really shouldn’t have made. It’s too soon, and he hasn’t even talked to the pack about it. 

Hannibal’s eyes gleam, his tail gives one approving swish. “I would love to.” 

That meeting is put off until after they get Winston moved in and settled. Will is somewhat uneasy about introducing the boy to another strange person, especially so soon after he’s joined. They are homeschooling him for now, hoping to get some idea of where he is at before enrolling him the next school year. Harley turns out to be a rather gifted teacher, leaving his budding repair and renovation business to Max and Buster for now. 

Winston seems to be very advance for his age (which they determine to be about 11), especially in reading and comprehension. His math skills are about average. He is interested in science, and enjoys learning how things work. Jackson shows him the garden and explains about photosynthesis and life cycles of plants. He appears bored by history, able to answer the questions but not really engaging with the material. Where he really shines, though, is music. 

It began with a gentle curiosity about the piano. Will didn’t play that often, but he offered when he saw the boy’s interest. He stares in rapt attention as the older lupine’s fingers dance across the keyboard. Will gets him a beginner’s instruction book, and walks him through the basics. Winston picks it up quickly, going from scales, to chords, to three note chords. Soon he is progressing to simple songs and can pick out the correct notes by sound. Will supposes it makes sense, and it never fails to make him smile the way his face lights up. It gives the mute boy a way to communicate.  _ Where words fail, music speaks. _

 

He finally gets around to finding a time for Hannibal to come meet the pack. Quite the trick considering the fluidity of everyone’s schedules. He thinks he finally gets an afternoon pinned down when Jack calls him at an ungodly hour (on his day off no less) asking him to come look at a crime scene. 

It wasn’t the first time Jack had tried to get him re-involved. He’d tried awfully hard to get him to come back to Minnesota to go through Hobb’s cabin. Will begged off that one, since he didn’t think he was really needed. Then the man had sent Beverly to try and get him to go see about some bodies being used as a mushroom farm. It had been right in the middle of the inspections and interviews to get custody of Winston, so he was able to wriggle out of that one, too. Sounds like they managed to find him pretty quick, otherwise Jack probably would have pressed the issue. 

But he doesn’t have a good excuse ready at the moment, so he flies to Maine and finds himself seated at the head of the table reimagining the Turner family’s last supper. They are a human/lupine mixed family. Unusual, but nothing unheard of. Zeller theorizes it might be a hate crime, but Will disagrees. He studies the family photos. One in particular catches his eye. The mother holding a child who isn’t facedown at the table. He has the lupine ears, unlike the other two. 

Back at the BAU office, Will ignores Zeller’s digs at his upbringing. He missed something in the scene, Jack points it out. The mother. The killer is the missing child.

 

He tries not to let his brooding put a damper on the holidays. The packs seems determined to go all out this year. Winston is going to be buried in gifts, and Will can’t find it in him to reign them in. Thanksgiving was weird potluck, a tradition begun after Jackson joined. Will, Harley, and Ellie hadn’t really paid much attention to the holiday previously, but Jackson liked to make an effort. They all fixed a different dish (that may or may not actually go well together) and spent the day watching Christmas movies. 

They were working themselves up into a Christmas frenzy, though. Zoe and Buster especially were getting a little too much into the season. The house looks like a tinsel factory exploded in it. Glitter was everywhere. They had cut down a tree on the property and hauled it in, and spent an afternoon with Winston making paper and popcorn chains and hanging ornaments. Ellie and Jackson were having to work overtime at the store, so they weren’t around as often, but Will caught them smuggling presents up to the attic to hide. Harley and Max were more concerned with getting their building projects completed before the bad weather really set in than adding to holly jolly atmosphere, for which Will was grateful. 

Not wanting to put off Hannibal’s visit anymore, he invites him to dinner on Christmas since he knew for a fact everyone would be there. The man gracefully accepts. They had visited a few more times to engage in their “conversations”. This mostly involved dinner then late talks over coffee in his sitting room. Hannibal is an engaging conversationalist, but Will wouldn’t have minded if the man was a little more forward. As it is he is beginning to wonder if their engaging in an 1800s era courtship. He no longer avoids the other lupine’s eyes, and the awareness between them seems to grow with each gaze, but the man keeps his distance so Will doesn’t press

The look on Winston’s face when he discovers his pile of presents is a sight Will is going to treasure for the rest of his life. The awe, excitement, and a touch of disbelief. He opens each one carefully, pulling back the paper and examining them closely. He gets clothes, posters, books, art supplies, gardening supplies, fishing stuff, and, of course, toys. Things to call his own. Ellie has to leave the room to hide how she’s tearing up watching him. 

Everyone else gets their share of presents, too. Will is particularly pleased with the feathers Zoe has collected for him on her walk abouts. Less so with the singing fish from Buster (the third year in a row he has received one from the small lupine). He is surprised to see there is even a small collection of presents for Hannibal when he arrives. He had bought the man a book on historic lupine artwork, but hadn’t expected the others to get anything for a person they haven’t even met yet. 

Hannibal arrives at midday, looking with interest around the little farmstead and carrying a covered dish. Will shoos Ellie and Buster away from where they are peeking out the window at him, and greets him at the door with a smile. 

“I apologize in advance for whatever they throw at you.” 

“Don’t scare him off before he even gets in the house, Will!” Zoe appears beside him, taking the dish from him. “That’s our job!” She drops Hannibal a wink and sweeps off, the gesture made rather elegant by the long green dress she is wearing. 

“Come on in, I’ll introduce you to everyone.” 

Harley and Jackson greet him politely enough, but the rest stare unabashedly at the doctor. Winston peers over the fort he has made of the present boxes, before ducking back down when Hannibal looks his way. 

“That’s Winston.” 

“So….Dr. Lecter,” Ellie begins. “What are your intentions for our beloved pack leader?” 

Will drops his head into his hands. 

“My intention is to respect Will’s right to define our relationship as he sees fit.” Damn that man has a silver tongue. 

“Oh, you won’t get far doing that.” Zoe chimes in. “He’ll never make the first move. You need to grab the bull by the horns, or wherever.” She tacks on the last word salaciously.

Will leans over and wraps his arms around his head. 

“So like, how does that work?” 

Oh, god no, now Buster was talking. Where is his gun, maybe if he shoots himself in the foot, it’ll distract them.. Why had he thought this was a good idea?

“If you’re both alpha males, then how do you decide who get’s to-”

“The food is ready,” Jackson says from the doorway, thankfully cutting Buster off. “Let’s eat.” Seriously. Favorite forever. 

They’d gone the more traditional route for Christmas dinner, a brown sugar glazed ham, sweet potato casserole, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, rolls, green beans. But there had been a few oddities thrown in for people’s preferences: baked macaroni and cheese, collard greens, fried plantains, swedish meatballs, and cabbage rolls. They had to bring a folding table in to extend the kitchen table to fit everyone. Usually it wasn’t an issue because often not everyone eats at the same time, and when they do, they’ll eat off their laps in the livingroom. Everything is mismatched from the food to the dishes to the chairs to the people. 

Will sits at the head of the table, by accident more than anything else. Hannibal sits on his right side and Winston on his left. The food is passed around and everyone helps themselves. Jackson and Ellie had done most of the cooking, though they had strong armed Buster into helping peel and chop when he wouldn’t stop bothering them. There was sweet tea, lemonade, and water to drink. The of age adults agree to hold off on the libations until later. Hannibal appears bemused by the proceedings. Will smirks at him, wondering if the other lupine has ever eaten an informal meal before. 

Ellie sat on the other side of Hannibal, and did a reasonable imitation of giving him the third degree. Will just sighs, and lets it happen. Hannibal can hold his own well enough. He tries not to listen to the pack’s invasive questioning and concentrated on his food. 

The dish Hannibal had brought turns out to be bread pudding. There is enough for everyone, and Zoe had also made a rather good Victoria sponge, as well as some gingerbread men that she and Winston had decorated. Almost everyone migrated back to the living room with their desserts, except for Harley who wanted to get a head start on KP. Max and Buster unceremoniously present Hannibal with his gifts. The doctor is surprised, but gracious as ever. Will is rather interested himself in what they’d gotten him.

He opens them in no particular order. Jackson’s is first. It is a box with a few jars of the preserves and jams he made from his garden. Max and Buster had gone in together on a cactus terrarium. Will suspects they bought it just because they thought it looked cool (which it does, to be fair). Ellie’s gift is in a large black bag that Hannibal peers into. He does not pull it out to show everyone while he thanks her, and from the way she smirks at him, Will just knows that it’s something inappropriate. Thankfully, Zoe went simple with some art supplies, a sketchbook, drawing pencils, and charcoal. Harley kept to his old standby and gave him a high end bottle of whiskey. 

He thought that was the end of the presents, when Winston stands up, looking nervous. He tugs on Hannibal’s sleeve to lead the older lupine over to the piano. Winston sits on the bench and takes a deep breath, centering himself and looking as serious as any concert musician. Then he begins to play. It’s The Carol of the Bells, the most advanced song Will has heard him perform. He must have been practicing for weeks. He makes a few mistakes, but does not let it break his intense concentration. 

When the last few lingering notes fade away, Hannibal applauds vigorously, and everyone follows suit. Winston ducks his head, looking bashful but pleased. Hannibal catches Will’s eye and it knocks the breath out of him, how right it feels to have the doctor here in his home. As part of his pack. 

As the daylight wanes, he walks Hannibal back out to his car, helping him carry his gifts, and ignoring the eyes on them from the windows. 

“I’m glad you could come.” 

“Thank you for inviting me, it was the most pleasurable Christmas I can remember having.” 

“What did Ellie give you?” He asks as he hands the bag over to be put in the backseat. 

“A copy of the gay karma sutra, prophylactics, and a rather large bottle of water based lubricant.” 

Will closes his eyes, praying for strength. “I’m sorry I asked.” 

“I shall take it as approval of our relationship. She is rather protective of you. They all are.”

“I guess we take care of each other.” 

“Winston, he does not speak?” 

“No. Not since I found him, though he can occasionally be persuaded to write.” 

“He allows his music to speak for him.” 

“Yes.” 

Hannibal considers for a moment. “Would you be averse to allowing me to offer harpsichord lessons to him? He is rather talented and I think he would take well to the instrument.” 

Will’s surprised. “It’ll be up to him, but I have no problem with it.” 

“Thank you.” Hannibal shuts the back door of the Bentley, and opens the driver’s door. 

“Have a good rest of your holiday, Will.” 

“You, too.” 

He isn’t sure who leans forward first, perhaps they do it at the same time. It feels so natural, to let their lips come together in a kiss. The lightness in his chest is almost enough to distract him from the sound of cheering coming from the house. 

 

Unfortunately, he doesn’t get to enjoy the rest of his holidays. Prints pulled off the Turner scene lead to the Frist house. He flies out with the New Year’s eve crowd. 

This case gets to him. They all get to him to some extent, but this one is hitting too close to home. Watching his own, young pack member, he can’t help but wonder about Winston’s past. He’d never given any hint of how he came to be on that lonely stretch of road or anything about his past before Will found him. He never even gave a last name. There were no missing person cases matching his description, nor did his dna or fingerprints turn up any information. And Will has been looking. He was so worried Winston’s picture would show up while they were looking through the missing child pictures for the case. It was like he’d never existed before Will found him. How easily could he have fallen into a group like this? 

He and Beverly take their narrowed down list of missing boy files to Alana for consultation, trying to find where the lost boys will strike next. Will describes what they are looking for. 

“A paradox in the midst of a normal family, an outsider who doesn’t look like one. He’d be good at a vocation, something inventive or mechanical. Probably the only one with lupine features, unattached to any local pack.” 

“Would’ve been a perfect candidate.” Alana says to him. 

It’s true. He would have been. She doesn’t know, but he would have been a better candidate for the leader. If he had found them rather than C.J. Lincoln, they wouldn’t have turned to murder. He can’t help but think of Winston again. He had taken him for his first harpsichord lesson with Hannibal. The boy practically radiated happiness at the discovery of a new instrument. 

Alana hits the nail on the head with her mother theory. C.J. isn’t the alpha, he’s the beta for an alpha female putting together a pack of young, alienated lupine boys. He takes the new idea to Jack. 

“There’s an adult with some formative sway. It’s a woman. A mother figure. She’s looking to form a family.” 

“I thought she was forming a pack?” 

“A lot of lupines don’t see much of a difference. Especially smaller packs.” 

Jack nods thoughtfully, accepting that. “Family can have a contagion effect on the alienated. You adopt the same attitudes, the same behaviors.” 

“Try to fit in so you don’t get cast out. Whoever this woman is, she wants these children to... burst with love for her. And she needs to erase their families to do that.” 

“She abducts them, convinces them no one can love them like she does. Then makes absolutely sure of it.” 

Will shakes his head in disgust. “Rule by fear is no way to run a pack.” 

Jack raises an eyebrow. “Thought you didn’t go in for that sort of thing anyway.” 

“I have a pack.” 

“It’s not in your file.” Jack frowns at this, not liking the idea he might have missed something on the profiler. 

“It just went official a few months ago. You’ve probably not looked at my personnel file since Hobbs.” 

“I see. I’ll have to get a copy of the new one.” He levels a look at Will, “You doing okay with them?” 

_ Afraid of rough handling to your teacup? _ He thinks, rather uncharitably. “Yes. Though I’ll do better once we find these boys.” He hands him the file on Chris O’Halloran.

 

Will goes with the team to North Carolina. It becomes obvious once they arrive that they are minutes too late to head the boys off. The SWAT team goes in, and Jack’s team pulls their weapons. C.J. shoots at the father, but only wings him. A SWAT member clips his arm, making him drop the gun, and then they are tackling him to the ground. Will follows the fleeing Chris, stopping another SWAT from firing at him. 

The boy is fast, running for his life, but Will’s legs are longer. 

“Christ, stop.” He commands in a firm voice. The boy whirls, shaking hands bringing up the gun. Will can hear SWAT moving up behind him. “Don’t shoot,” he warns them. He locks eyes with the young lupine. “You don’t have to worry about C.J. anymore. It’s okay. You’re home now. Put down the gun, Christopher.” 

Tears fall down his cheeks, he is trembling all over. Movement behind him catches Will’s eye, and a woman with red ears steps out and places a gun against Chris’s back. 

“Shoot him, Christopher.” Her voice is heavy with alpha resonance. 

Will’s eyes snap up to hers. Her ears go back, tail bristling.

“Drop your gun. For my boy.”

“You’re his new mother.”

“I am.” She says, not moving the gun. “And I love him, but I will do what I have to do for my pack.”

Will bears his teeth at her. “You abducted these boys. Your “son” C.J. killed your other “son” Connor. You burned his remains to honor him as his mother. You have no idea what it means to be an alpha.” 

“I’m honoring them like their other mothers wouldn’t.” She growls at him. “They’re not invisible anymore. I can see them. I see who they are and love them, that is what being an alpha is.”

“This is not love. This is murder.” Will feels the urge to start circling, she obviously does, too, but she keeps the boy in front of her as a shield, still challenging Will.

“The most loving mothers commit murder with smiles on their faces. They force us to destroy the person we are. A subtle kind of murder.” 

Will drops his gun, taking a step toward the two. 

“Shoot him, Christopher. Like I showed you.” Her voice is rising now, it is draining her trying to keep her hold over Chris while trying to dominate Will. 

Summoning up every bit of alpha strength in him, he channels it all into a single command. “Put. The. Gun. Down.”

Both the lupines drop the weapons as if they were burned, and Will thinks he even sees a couple of the SWAT team start to lower their rifles. Not Beverly, though. She takes the opening Will gave her and shoots the woman. Chris turns, eyes wide at the sight of his terrible surrogate mother bleeding out. Will puts a hand on the back of his neck and leads him away. The boy goes docile as a lamb. He takes him over to where the team have the other boy’s cuffed and loaded into a van, though the doors are still open. C.J. is putting up a ruckus, yelling, and thrashing in his bonds. Will sees they had to put ankle restraints on him, too, where the other boys just have cuffs. 

“Stop.” Will says to him, still in alpha mode. The boy goes still immediately, staring at him with wide eyes. He drops them when Will looks at him. The rest of the boys do, too,one even bares his throat. 

He relinquishes Christopher to Jack when he finishes talking to the O’Hallorans in the house. Then he goes to see about getting a ride back to Virginia. He feels like he’s about a thousand years old, and wants nothing more than to see his pack and make sure they are safe and happy. And he wants to see Hannibal.

 

Zoe takes one look at him when Will gets home and hustles him onto the couch, puts a nature documentary about bears on the television, and pushes a hot toddy into his hands. The rest of the pack wanders through, and all seemed compelled to touch him. Harley patted him on the shoulder. Buster comes and hangs out on the arm of the couch next to him, before getting bored of the documentary and zipping off. Max comes and sits on the floor, leaning against his legs. Ellie wraps her arms around his neck from behind, resting her chin on the top of his head between his ears. She stays like that for several long minutes, not saying anything before sliding away. Winston curls up next to him, and after a moment, Will wraps his arm around his shoulders, and the boy leans into his side, a warm heavy weight. Jackson takes his other side, half his attention on the show and half on the book he’s reading. 

There is only one piece of the picture missing, and Will is pleasantly surprised when he shows up just as the sun starts sinking and the wind picks up. His ears swivel, the purr of the Bentley is unmistakable. He starts to get up, but Zoe stops him, bustling out the door to greet Hannibal. When they enter, they are both laden down with bags, which Will can only guess contain food. Winston turns next to him to hang over the back of the couch and grin at the doctor. Hannibal smiles in return. 

“I hope you do not mind my intrusion, Will. Zoe called and said you had just returned from North Carolina looking, and I quote ‘like ten miles of bad road’.” 

Will huffs out a laugh. “I felt it, too. This last case was-it was rough.” Jackson nudges his foot in sympathy. 

“I have taken the liberty of bringing ingredients to make some comfort food.”

“You didn’t have to do that.” 

“Let him be a good boyfriend, Will!” Ellie’s voice calls from the next room. 

“I wanted to,” Hannibal says, ignoring the interjection. “Winston, would you like to assist me? I could use a sous chef.”

Winston tilts his head as if he is not quite sure what a sous chef is, but gamely gets up and head to the kitchen. Jackson and Max rise and trail after him, leaving Hannibal and Will alone. 

Hannibal sits down next to him. They don’t speak, but Will flips his hand over, palm up in invitation. Hannibal takes it. His fingers are long and deft, artist’s hands, surgeon’s hands.  

Will clasps it tightly, and looks into the other lupine’s eyes. They are filled with warm affection. There is no push for dominance, no challenge, just the weight of connection. The acknowledgement that they are equals.

Will smiles at him. There are plenty of logistics that will have to be worked through, and he wants to get to know the doctor better. Lord only knows how the living situation is going to pay out. But in that singular moment, he knows. Hannibal is pack. More than that, he’s Will’s mate. He is certain down to his bones, no one else could ever be his match. 

He can see the same surety reflected in Hannibal’s eyes. As one, they come together in a tender kiss. It’s a promise and a bond, and when they pull back, Will is filled with a contentment he has never known before. All around him, his pack, his little motley family, is safe and sound. And he is home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is it for now! This actually turned out much longer than I intended. It was meant just to be a quick character sketch of Will's dogs as people. Maybe one day I will revisit this verse and flesh out the idea of Lupines a little more, but for now, I have other stories to write!


End file.
